Shelter
by kittenstanley
Summary: Of course, only jealousy could fall in love with pride. E/E. Modern AU.
1. part i

**_Maybe I have said,_**

**_Something that was wrong,_**

**_Can I make it better,_**

**_With the lights turned on?_**

_i._

She never asked for any of it.

They're already down to their underwear. Even in her drunken stupor Eponine is taking full advantage of this moment. Marius' hands running up and down her bony rib cage, his lips upon hers, the scent of cologne and alcohol... She saves the feeling, tucking it away for a rainy day. The night closes in around them and they are nothing but contained explosions, but Eponine does not mind. She always wanted to go out with a bang.

Marius, on the other hand, has no idea what he is doing. She is much skinner than he imagined- much dirtier. Her hair is ratted and frayed and her lips taste like blood ash. He wonders how an angel could possibly taste of blood and ash. He goes for her bra, fumbling around in the dark. He catches a glimpse- /black/. Maybe his angel is actually a devil.

It is just before they hit the bed before he calls her name.

"My angel."

Eponine takes this a bit wearily. He knew she was no angel, and she knew too. She slows down, confusion making her tense.

"I dreamed we'd meet again."

Everything comes to a halt. He doesn't believe it is her- he has her confused with someone else. She pulls back, her voice like venom.

"No."

He stops, flicking on a light. His slurred words take over the space.

"P-ponine...? Why the hell am I-? With you-?!"

She grimaces, but dares not look away from his face. He is intoxicated, but so is she. She does not know whether to believe what he says next.

"I could never love you like that! G-get out! I can't believe I almost h-had sex with you! Y-you may be ridden with disease."

Her face becomes emotionless. She believes every bit of it.

He, on the other side, does not. The confusion overwhelms him to a point of anger. He does not know what to say.

So he says all the things he can to get rid of her.

It takes a moment, but her teeth grit and she slaps him. She does not say anything as she blindly grabs her clothes and storms out.

She does not cry.

She is numb.

_ii._

**_You have new voicemails!_** The voice on her machine calls out. **_Click one to listen._**

She has been ignoring these for three days. Her will is no longer strong enough to resist. She picks up the phone, hitting the button.

The most recent is one from Marius, of course.

"Ponine, I'm so sorry. I'll do anything. Lifetime supply of chocolate milkshakes? Concert tickets? PLEASE."

_Next._ She thinks.

"I still have your bra I'm sorry."

"Sorry about the other night, I was out of my mind! I don't think you have any diseases, really!"

"Please. Just talk to me."

"Eponine I am so sorry and I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me!"

She still does not cry, though it seems he might have.

Guilt is an ugly color on Marius.

The next message is unexpected; she didn't even know Enjolras had her number.

"Eponine? It's Enjolras. I would like it if you spoke at my women's right's rally next week. I will pay you if need be. Contact me."

The message is just as abrupt as his temper.

She calls him back instantly, her raspy voice asking simply: "Why is a white male bourgeois running a women's right's meeting?"

"Promoting equality." He says, obviously somewhere with a lot of people. She can almost make out some of the background noise if she concentrates hard enough.

"Do you even care about women's rights?" She raises a brow, holding the phone close to her ear.

"That is a silly question, Eponine." He scoffs. "Are you in or not?"

"Ask me tomorrow." She hangs up.

It is smooth and easy for them to converse, but they don't do it often. He has no time to waste and she hasn't got much to spend. So obviously they do not spend that time together.

She has two more voicemails. One is Bahorel, making sure she's not dead. She appreciates the thought, but doesn't confirm or deny anything. And the last is work, telling her if she misses one more day she's fired.

This is a severe wake up call for Eponine. She rolls out of bed, promptly hitting the floor. She scrambles to her feet, throwing on what the can find.

Within three minutes she is out the door and racing towards the Musain.  
She barrels through the door, tying on her apron from the rack.

"Thank god!"

She perks her head up to see Musichetta, the other waitress. She jumps around a few chairs in her way, begging to engulf Eponine in her arms.

Eponine obliges to this, but does not enjoy it. She lightly pats the girl's back, trying to signal 'that's enough'. Musicetta lets go, a big grin on her face.

"I was afraid you ran off on us all!" She says dramatically, grabbing Eponine by the shoulders. "The boys had a bet going on- they thought you might have died!"

She quirks a brow, looking back to the group of boys behind Chetta. They are all exchanging bills and yelling and pushing each other. She looks back to Musichetta, beginning to deadpan:

"How thoughtful." She notices Marius, her eyes widening. He sits in the corner, no amusement on his face whatsoever. "I need to get to work."

She starts to make her way to the counter. This lasts about three seconds before Marius awkwardly climbs out of his seat and races over to her. He grabs her shoulders this time, pulling her to face him. Her heart does not flutter and her face does not flush. The Amis grow silent and she is left with nothing but him and his guilt.

She tenses.

She has already been touched too much.

"Eponine- I'm so sorry." He searches her eyes for any sign of life, but can only find emptiness. "I'm an idiot and I'm sure you don't have any STDs."

She sends him a sharp glare, her gaze hardening as she hears snorts and gasps from the boys.

"Leave me alone." Her eyes are like knives; her words like swords.

He does not budge.

"Eponine."

A firm hand is placed on Marius' shoulder. She looks up to see Enjolras, a scowl on his face.

"Let her go."

Marius almost shakes, dropping Eponine's arms and turning to Enjolras. Enjolras sends him a short shove, pointing him back to the Amis.

"I apologize, Eponine-"

"Don't ever do that again." She snaps harshly, hitting his arm.

"Ow-!" He winces. "What did I do?" His brow raises as he begins to rub where she hit.

"I don't need to be saved. In fact, I could have saved myself." She is nothing shy of harsh. "I refuse to be your damsel, _m'sieur_."

"I wasn't trying to—" He tries to interject.

"And we're not even friends!" She continues, letting the boys glare at them. "I see no use for your help."

"I consider us friends." He scoffs, a bit hurt by her comment.

"Since when?" She hisses.

He simply shakes his head, returning to the crowd.

And she is left numb.

_iii._

She makes what seems like hundreds of drinks. The musain is sullen and the laughter is only occasional. No one speaks to her except to order a coffee. She makes them silently, not even bothering to manipulate the costumers in to paying more money. She does not even sing along to the music and pretend she's in some bad nineties movie.

She doesn't even feel the coffee burn her skin when she spills it.

And she doesn't even wince at Enjolras' cold glare.

"Black coffee." He mutters simply.

She realizes how harsh she was. If she had already lost Marius then why lose Enjolras? Well- it wasn't like she had either of them in first place, but she knows if she keeps isolating herself then she will have no one.

She quickly makes his coffee, taking her sharpie and scribbling something on it quickly.

He takes it, still a bit upset with her. It takes him a moment to notice what she had written. He reads it quietly aloud to try and decipher it.

_"Sorry, pretty boy."_

He chuckles, receiving an odd look from Grantaire- the only boy not listening to one of Courfeyrac's outrageous stories.

And he finds himself not able to listen to it either.

_iv._

The next morning she awakes to another phone call.

"What do you want, Enjolras?"

"You said to ask you about the rally tomorrow. It's tomorrow now."

"When's the rally?"

"Tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow?_"

"Was that unclear?"

"Smart ass." She bites her tongue, thinking up an answer. "Fine, only if you stop bugging me."

"Deal."

"See you then, bourgeois boy."

_v._

_"You've reached Eponine's voicemail! Fuck off."_

_"Did you not hear my thing about chocolate milkshakes? I know you enjoy chocolate. C'mon, please stop hating me. I can't focus with a red cheek and the sound of your voice nipping at the back off my—"_

_"Your message has been deleted."_


	2. part ii

_**We are the reckless,**_

_**We are the wild youth,**_

_**Chasing visions of our future,**_

_**One day we'll reveal the truth.**_

vi.

She follows the crowd to the rally. People of all different sorts surround Enjolras' glorified soapbox. There's screaming, and chanting, and singing- but Eponine feels no pleasure or power from any of it. She keeps pushing her way through, a stone cold look on her face. She doesn't enjoy the amount of people surrounding her, nor the amount of people touching her. She wraps her coat around tighter around herself, using it as a shield. They yell at her as she pushes forcibly by. She doesn't care; she never does. She just continues on, letting them glare. She's almost to him when he lets out earthshattering words.

"Though we must all admit that men are superior to women in average life."

His burning passion does not waver; he wants them all to believe this.

The crowd is stunned silent. She pushes past completely and hops up on stage. She pulls his arm, sending him to the back of the stage. The crowd begins to boo.

"What the fuck was that?" She hisses.

"I was expressing what the facts tell me." He replies softly, his voice losing its power.

"You act like you've lured them here to throw some shit masculism on them." She scoffs, hitting his arm again.

"Ow—God, will you stop doing that?"

Her nostrils flare and she runs towards the front of the stage. She must be fearless- no, she will be. Granted if she can figure out what to say.

"I disagree with his statement!" Her rough voice booms amongst the crowd. They're silent for a second. Eponine fears that she has ruined it. "A woman can be just as good as a man, if not better!"

There is a pause and she thinks she might start sweating.

They begin to cheer and she relaxes, tugging her jacket down.

"You know what? I'm tired of being saved," It was like something had possessed her. She spoke with an intensity ten times her own. "I'm tried of guys assuming I need saving! I am my own knight in shining armor." They cheer again and her eyes are lit like fire. "I am my own hero!"

She cannot see him, but Enjolras is grinning. She is a piece of art on that stage, and he made it so. Or, at least that's what he would like to believe.

"I have spent over half of my life in the gutter," She holds her head high and her hands clenched, as is she is a queen proclaiming on to her people. She is a queen in her own right; despite what she believes. "With men grabbing me and objectifying me, when all I wanted was food for my sister and I to eat."

The crowd is silent except for a few encouraging screams.

"I have been kicked out of almost every library in this goddamn city because I would hide in the bathrooms after closing." She admits. "—Just so I could spend time teaching myself to read. Men would drag me out by my collars and call me a dirty rat. One told me I wouldn't need to read once I found a husband."

"We love you!" She hears a familiar voice yell. _Courfeyrac_, She thinks, _Of course the Amis are here._

Now this is the hard part. Thinking of the past makes her throat burn and her legs weak, but she can't let it show.

"And when I was sixteen my father forced me in to prostitution to pay for _his_ drugs and _his_ meals. He didn't care what happened to me, or that I had become some object. I paid for the good stuff."

Her eyes began to water. She had never talked so openly before.

"I am tired of becoming something I am not for men, and being seen as something worse than I am. I may be the devil, but I was shaped that way for a reason. For once in my life-" She pauses, blinking back tears and swallowing to fix the hitch in throat. "I want to be treated fairly."

She stops, staring at them all with a clenched jaw and teary eyes.

They are silent. She fears she has scared them all- but she sees that a few a crying. They erupt in to applause and Eponine sends the best smile she can. She turns back, running off the side of the stage. Enjolras follows carefully behind, calling her name over and over again- but she doesn't hear it. She drowns out the world behind her and for once she is a mix of joyful and saddened. She's smiling, she has finally spoken up about her demons; yet she's crying, the world might as well know how horrible she is.

For the first time in a long time, she cares.

He catches up to her and grabs her arm. He can feel her body shake. _She's crying. _He pulls her gently, wrapping her up in his arms. He doesn't expect her to be okay with this, nor does he understand why he did it in the first place. For once, it seems right.

She continues to shiver and sniffle in to his chest, occasionally hitting him. She does not push him off until she hears the shutters of cameras go off. She unravels herself quickly and he lets her. She wipes her nose on her wrist, pushing past the crowd. She hears the calls of some of the Amis, but she ignores them. She swears she can hear Combeferre telling them all to stop. She can't help but smile a little bit.

vii.

She's at the bus stop before Enjolras catches up. He stands in directly in front of her, his strong stature taking over the space between them. "I'll give you a ride." He offers simply.

"One, I don't accept pity parties," She glares in to his eyes, making sure he knows how angry she is. "And two, I don't take rides from sexists."

He puts a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean any of what I said." She tenses, her brows lowering.

"_What?"_

"I just said it so you would actually care."

"You did _what_?"

"I just wanted someone as powerful as you to care."

"I don't know what you're doing right now—"

"Do you see what you did to that crowd? They found a hero, no, a _martyr _in a gamin!" He chuckles breathlessly, amazed beyond belief. "You could change Paris for the better."

Eponine mulls over it for a second, unsure of how to answer. "You want me to join you?"

"Yes!"

There goes that unexplainable passion again. He is begging and pleading in everyway possible.

"Fine!" She replies, a similar fire in her eyes. "But don't ever call me a martyr again." She snaps at the last second, letting him jump in fear.

And she laughs. She really laughs. It is abrupt laughter, but it is real. That is something unfamiliar to the girl.

"What is it?"

She shakes her head._ "What have I just gotten myself in to?"_

"Still want that ride?" He asks, holding out his hand.

She stares at his hand. Perhaps this is some sigh of friendship, but Eponine does not hold hands. Eponine is told she is useless and garbage and watches as everyone else shows affection. Affection is too good for her and a waste of time. But something pulls at her, wanting her to take his hand, _needing_ a friend like that.

Before she can make up her mind her drops his hands by his sides. "Come on." He gestures to the direction of his car. He doesn't blame her for not holding his hand. She had just gone through something he probably should not have put her through. So he walks forward and she trails next to him, and they converse about stupid little things like the weather.

And he sure as hell can't help but feel _something._

_viii._

"_You've reached Eponine's voicemail! Fuck off."_

"_Hey, it's me again. I heard what you said at the rally and now you have to admit that STD thing wasn't that unreasonable—"_

"_Your message has been deleted."_


	3. part iii

**AN: WOW! Thank you the kind reviews and all of the favorites and follows! They're very encouraging. I'd like to say right now that my model for Eponine is Freya Mavor, so the description will be different from Sam- obviously. Not sure how many parts are left but the more encouragement I get the faster these may come! Thanks and enjoy!**

* * *

_**She knows what I think about**_

_**And what I think about**_

_**One love, two mouths**_

_**One love, one house**_

_**No shirt, no blouse**_

_ix._

She lays on Enjolras' floor, an array of books surrounding her. She insists on playing music as studied his journals, she claims it's the only way to wash it down. Her tank top rides up so the small of her back is visible, and she musses up her mess of blonde hair. Enjolras can not help but stare. He doesn't want to- no, not at all. But there is something so mesmerizing about her... He is confused as to why he can't look away from her. He doesn't love her, nor is he all that attracted to her. He just can't stand to look away.

Her music plays through his speakers. Strange how simply she could introduce him to hard rock, which her father used to play, to crappy pop, which she swears she listens to ironically. It's funny how easy he can remember all of that, and funnier how much she opened up to tell him.

It is even funnier how easy it is for him to snap out of his thoughts. Her phone buzzes and she contorts herself to get it out of her front pocket. He can tell who it is by the soft smile on her face.

"How's Gavroche?" He asks, leaning against the open doorframe of his kitchen.

"Same old." She says simply, almost monotone. "He's my favorite little shit, contrary to popular belief."

He snorts. "Coffee?"

She shakes her head. "No." Her gaze returns to the politics of Margaret Thatcher. She attempts to analyze it, but she tends to get stuck on certain words. No way would she tell him though, that would result in a lot of unwanted help. It takes her a moment to realize he is staring at her. She suspects he may be some alien mind reader- or worse.

Over the past month they have become friends; great friends, to be exact. They had done four rallies together. The first one Enjolras was booed off stage, but he explained that Eponine showed him the error of his ways. She remembers teasing him about that for the rest of the day. She shared more stories and she helped rile the crowed up. But, no matter what they did or said, she never let it show how much she enjoyed it. She was too proud to give him the satisfaction. And while the Amis knew of her old life, they did not treat her much different. Except for Bahorel, who let her sleep on his couch more often than usual.

But Enjolras let her stay in his bed, without having it as charity. He stopped insisting after awhile and just let her in. They watched old movies together; she even occasionally fell asleep on his shoulder. But there was nothing ever romantic about the two. Not to her knowledge, at least.

She hopes he does not feel anything for her; she doesn't want to be his special charity case. She looks up to him, meeting his gaze. He does not move, but she knows it is not what she feared. The look in his eye conveys that he is studying her, and she is content with that. She smirks at him, and he smirks back. He opens his mouth to simply tease her about something before a sharp knock is heard at the door. Enjolras turns his attention to the door and Eponine turns hers to her book. He walks over, careful not to step on any of her supplies. He opens the door and Marius bursts in, hugging him like the madman. "Enjolras! She's actually real! The girl from the market is real!" He screams, a goofy grin stretched upon his face.

Enjolras raises a brow as Eponine's head jerks up. _Of course Marius has come, _She thinks, _he should know Enjolras does not care._

But he continues. "Her name is Cosette! She's perfect and-" Marius finally realizes where he is. The music, the smell of coffee,_ Eponine_- they all rush in to him. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Eponine climbs to her feet as Enjolras tries to talk to him. "You should go."

Eponine, in this moment, cannot help but approach him. _Cosette w_as his angel? The name sticks in her head, like someone has poured regret flavored honey in to her brain. So she stands directly in front of him, asking the question she'd been waiting to ask for months.

"Why?"

"Why wh-what?" He stutters, turning red.

"Why did you say all those things to me?" Her hard features soften as she opens herself to him. The numbness has faded, the pain gone before that. She just wants to know why he broke her heart.

Enjolras backs up, keeping a careful eye on them. He doesn't know why it pains him to see her still in love with him. He isn't even sure that she still loves him. But the feeling is overwhelming and painful. He wants to jump in and shield her from him. He wants to keep her safe and happy.

"Because I was scared." He admits. "I had been having these horrible dreams, and it was like one coming to life- I just thought…" He pauses. "I just didn't know it was you. I only said all of that so you would leave. I didn't mean any of it."

She looks at him intently, trying to figure out what to say. He is an idiot, but his intentions are kind. She presses a kiss atop his forehead. "Stop being stupid. Now get out." She promptly hits his arm playfully and pushes him out the door.

And she smiles.

And Enjolras watches her. He watches as she looks down, lost in her thoughts. He watches as she blushes, forgetting where she is. He watches as she forgives him so easily she doesn't even realize it.

He watches as she keeps giving her life to a boy who will never love her in return.

She feels his gaze in her and she realizes what she has done. Her smile fades and she looks up at him, grimacing.

"Don't you dare judge me right now."

His face hardens in return. "Do you even understand what you've done? You let him win. You gave up at what might have been a blatant lie."

"Still doesn't give you the right to look at me like that."

"I have the right to tell you when you've made a mistake."

"I have my reasons—"

"I will never understand why beautiful women fall in love with arrogant little boys." He is sharp; he is angry. He feels she is being wasted on Marius.

She deserves so much more.

But she can't see it. All she can see is a good thing being ruined. She grabs her bag, swinging it angrily over her bony shoulder. He calls after her, trying to get her to stay.

"I shall see you at tomorrow's rally, m'sieur." She snaps, slamming the door behind her.

_Funny,_ He thinks. _To love a gamin._

He freezes, his brows furrowing.

He may in fact love her.

He loves how she smiles. He loves the stories she tells him, whether they are joyful or bleak. He loves how her eyes light up when the crowd cheers. He loves how she cares for him, even if she won't admit it.

The feeling is far too confusing for Enjolras. He takes a sleeping pill, hoping he will forget the whole night.

He falls in to a blissful and ignorant sleep.

In the night he dreams she let's herself in and climbs in to bed with him. He dreams he kisses her, and holds her, and tells her he loves her. He dreams there is nothing but them and the sound of the rain.

He dreams of love.

And it nearly kills him.

x.

_"You've reached Eponine's voicemail! Fuck off."_

_"Eponine, it's Enjolras—"_

_"Your message has been deleted."_


	4. part iv

_**I'm all out for the war,**_

_**I guess love wasn't what I'm looking for,**_

_**I don't care when you cry,**_

_**I think self pity is a state of mind.**_

_x._

Eponine has been preparing what she must say for a full week.

For Eponine, that is huge.

Once Enjolras told her this rally was about the poor class of Europe, she knew what she had to do. If she got this right, then she had a chance of helping her brothers and her sister. She didn't even count her anger towards Enjolras as a distraction; it motivated her if anything.

She greets Combeferre at the side of the stage. He squeezes her shoulders as a quick 'good luck' before stopping her. He opens his mouth to say something as she keeps her eyes locked on him.

"Eh, Eponine…" He is obviously nervous, which makes her the same in return. She lowers her brows. "Yes?" He nods, swallowing. He is obviously afraid of her. She is unsure of whether to laugh or run.

"What did you do to Enjolras?"

She glares at him incredulously, before turning her attention to the blonde on the other side of the stage. He hasn't shaved, offering slight- yet noticeable stubble to his marble face. He doesn't look like he's very focused either; he keeps fidgeting and pacing. She wonders if she has done this to him.

"You don't know the effect you have on people, Ponine!" Bahorel chuckles, patting her back as he climbs on to stage. She runs her fingers through her hair, taking it all in. She has chipped a man compared to a statue. She considers her reasons for being angry with him, realizing how her pride has wounded her again. She catches his eyes, offering a look meant to say 'I'm sorry', He nods in return, and she steps up on stage to start her speech.

She is greeted with a few cheers and hollers, and she nods to them. She takes a deep breath, starting.

"I have spent most of my life trapped in the gutter with my siblings, unloved and uncared for."

He listens intently, not understanding why she is unloved. She is they symbol of everything he fights for. Everything she has endured can bring light to the people. She is his gamin martyr, even if she does not know yet that she is his. He is filled with nothing but selfish love. _Only jealousy could fall in love with pride._

"We've been starved, beaten, and kept like stray animals." She continues. "I want a world where kids can live safely together."

Her speech is far from over, her head is filled with ideas and testimonials, but as she continues Enjolras steps on stage. He makes his way right next to her. She stops, turning to him.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Eponine, I—" He looks out to the crowd of people, knowing it is too late to back off. "I can't put this off any longer."He presses his lips to hers, pulling her close to him. She tenses, dropping her arms. He holds her too close for to escape, but for one brief moment she kisses him. He has had little urges to kiss her in the past, even before they were really friends. He would write the feeling off, blaming it on something else. But he is finally kissing her; a taste of blood and strawberries filling his mouth. He backs up to breathe and she forces herself out of his grip. His gaze is strong and he is so close to smiling, but her glare scares him. He frowns and she sends a sharp shove towards his chest.

She turns and runs.

He follows her, grabbing her arm as she runs past the boys. She tries to weasel away from him, not caring if she hurts him. He winces, but does not let her go.

"I thought you gave a shit!" She spits, violently trying to shake him off. "I thought you cared about what I had to say! All you wanted was to get in my pants this whole time? Were rallies some code for seduction or something? I thought you were my friend, Enjolras!" She is thrashing kicking and yelling. She is blind with anger.

She has lost it because a privileged boy decided to make her his.

"I care, Eponine!" He yells, trying to hold her steady.

"Then why did you ruin my speech? Why did you ruin my chance?"

"I—" She keeps interrupting him with exclamations and threats. "Eponine!"

Combeferre puts a hand on his shoulder. "Let go, Enjolras."

He reluctantly sets her free and she runs off. It pains him, but he does not let it show.

For once he has done wrong.

_xii.__  
_  
She makes three phone calls when she returns her home. The first is to Gavroche and Azelma, she barely avoids her papa when she rings them. They are apparently squatting in an old villa outside of the city. Gavroche nicked a phone from a poor old man and Azelma figured out a way for it to work. She will admit she is proud. She tries not to cry as she tells them that something went wrong and that they won't be safe just yet. She does not blame it on him, but never will she blame it on herself.

The second phone call is work. She begs Musichetta to give her the day off tomorrow and she obliges. Eponine knows that patience at the Musain is running thin, but so is hers. She can't live without a job, but part of her knows that she would feel better without one.

The last call is to Montparnasse. She asks him to come over and he doesn't even hesitate to agree. They kept an odd bond for their kind.

She lights a cigarettes she waits, moving her hair away from her face. She sits on her knees, almost curled in a ball, and contemplates a way to pass the time. Her apartment has no tv, nor bookshelf. It is a bed, a kitchen, and a separate bathroom. She is grateful of the view and nothing else. Her bed is nowhere near as nice as Enjolras', and her kitchen is crawling with cockroaches and spiders. She puts up with it, seeing as its what she deserves.

His knock awakes her from her thoughts. She puts out her cigarette and answers the door. No words can be muttered before his lips press upon hers. They both taste of blood and ash. They mix together, leading each other to her bed.

He has found a way to wash the anger off her lips and the regret off her tongue.

For a moment she is content.

Enjolras, on the other hand, is far from content. He cancels the rally, letting it turn in to a party of sorts. They drink, they dance, they scream- but he is too numb to enjoy it. He should have known it was he bad idea to kiss her. He knew this was important to her.

Halfway through the party Courfeyrac hands him a beer.

"I knew it." He says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Knew what?" Enjolras raises a brow.

"Knew you were in to her."

Enjolras grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. "I didn't realize it yesterday. I had convinced myself I was just fascinated with her. " He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm supposed to be smarter than this." He has never thought of anyone in the way he thinks of her before. He has always lead his actions his head, but never had he even considered listening to his heart.

Courfeyrac squeezes his shoulder. "She'll get over it! Don't worry."

He shakes him off, holding back a sneer.

"_Leave me alone."_

_xiii._

_"You've reached Eponine's voicemail! Stop calling me, Enjolras."_

_"Epo—"_

_"__**Your message has been deleted**__."_


	5. part v

**AN: you guys are so sweet! Thanks for all the follows and reviews! Sorry for the late update, I've been swamped. If you have any questions just pm me. ****Oh, and by the way: the next chapter is probably the last. Enjoy!**

_**Tell me life if beautiful,  
**__**They think that I have it all.  
**__**I'm nothing without you,  
**__**All the dreams and all the lights mean,  
**__**Nothing if I can't have you.**_

_xiv._

A month passes without Eponine.

Enjolras tries to fill the time. He thinks of her; she is his beacon of hope. Yet, when he looks for her, she is nowhere to be found. He knows he shouldn't worry; he tries the best he can not to. Though the guilt gnaws at him during speeches, causing him to falter.

He dreams of her often. Sometimes he sees her smile, a bubbly personality taking over her hard shell. Others she acts like Cosette, kindhearted and flighty. But usually the dreams are intimate and soft- she feels like herself. He wants her to be there with him, but he knows it won't happen. He doesn't want her to change for him; he can't bear the thought. He feels guilty after his dreams, like he loves her without consent. She deserves more.

One night he considers calling her again, but he knows she isn't home. He listens to the tapping of the rain as he tries to occupy himself. The television bores him and he has read all of his books. He is left alone to entertain himself. He tries to sleep- it doesn't work. He tries to write a speech- it _really _doesn't work. It gets to a point where he tries to balance spoons on his nose. They each fall to the floor, emitting loud sounds.

He's organizing his reference books by year when he hears a knock. He assumes it's one of the boys, trying to get him to drink or something of the sort. He groans, getting up. He runs his fingers through his hair, opening the door with a sharp glare.

"What do you-"

She stands in front of him, every bit of her soaked. She frowns, looking up at him. He stares at her- truly speechless.

"Hey." She says softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Hello." He replies firmly, unsure of what to do.

"Can I come in?"

He steps out of her way as she walks in. He feels like this is a dream of sorts, his balance lessening as he closes the door. He thought she may have left for good, but knowing Eponine, it wasn't likely.

She stares up at him expectantly as he thinks. Part of her regrets coming in, but she knows she has to speak to him.

"One moment." He says, running to the linen closet to get her a towel. He wraps it around her tightly. "How long have you been out there?" He says with a soft chuckle, helping her dry off. She lets out a little chuckle, sniffling as she does so. "A while."

Their eyes meet. She can see what she's done to him. More importantly, she can see why she's missed him. She takes in everything she can about him- his scruff, his missed up hair, his little smile. He warms her up by just being there.

He takes her in too; her new bruises, the small cut on her hand, her tired eyes, her broken smile. He takes his thumb and wipes off some dirt from her cheek. She pushes himself in to his arms for a hug. He kisses her forehead and holds her tight. She doesn't cry, she just shivers- though the two could be easily confused.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"-You should be." She jokes, backing out of the hug.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Whiskey." She says quickly.

He turns to the kitchen; she takes a seat. She can't stop shivering- but neither can he. She brings her knees to her chin, wrapping her towel around everything she can possibly cover.

"Where have you been?" He attempts to ask casually, but it comes out more demanding. He bites the inside of his cheek, getting her glass out. _Smooth_.

"I went to visit my brothers and sister." She shrugs. "They're alright, I guess. They've figured out how to avoid mama and papa, at least."

He figures that's where the bruises and cuts came from. "You went there alone?"

She shakes her head. "No. Brought a friend but... He left."

Enjolras felt a tinge of jealousy as he exited the kitchen. "May I ask why he left?"

"Everyone always leaves."

She says this as if she may expect him to leave her as well.

This hits Enjolras like a punch to the gut. _She thinks he might leave her- as if he could._ She un-tucks her legs, fiddling with her hands in her lap. He hands her the drink, clasping his hand around hers. He lowers to his knees, keeping her (roughly) in his eye line. He is ready to tell her what he meant to on stage.

"I will never leave you." He says firmly. "Not unless you want me to."

"Yes you will-" She looks down at the drink in her hands.

"Eponine," He stops her and her gaze returns to his. "I love you."

She stares at him intently, a frown growing across her dirt stained face. "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do." He takes the drink from her hands, moving it to the side table. He intertwines their fingers and she complies. "I mean it as much as anyone can."

"You're in love with the idea of me." She says bluntly, looking down at their hands. "I'm the closest to what you're fighting for, aren't I?"

Her point is valid, but Enjolras hurts too much to understand why. He shakes his head. "I love _you_, Eponine. How can I prove it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything."

"Shut up."

"I mean it."

"I don't owe you anything."

"No you don't."

"Good."

She decides to take a leap.

She leans forward, pressing her lips to his. She climbs out of her seat, wrapping herself around him. He wraps his arms around her waist as they fall back. They continue to kiss as if they never had done anything like it before.

She stops to breathe, resting her forehead against his. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." He replies, leaning up for another kiss. She backs away before he can.

"I should go." She climbs off of him, running her fingers through her hair.

He stops her before she can reach the door. "You can stay over- if you'd like."

She doesn't answer him.

"Are you going to the march tomorrow?"

Once again, she is silent.

"Do you love me?"

She can feel a small blush spread across her face.

She turns back to him with a smirk. "Ask me tomorrow."

"I love you." He smiles.

_"No you don't."_

She exits swiftly, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

_xv._

"_Yes, this is Eponine's voicemail. Stop being assholes and making me change it."_

"_Ponine! I heard you're back! You must meet Cosette—"_

"_Your message has been deleted."_


	6. part vi

_**But do not ask the price I paid,**__**  
**__**I must live with my quiet rage,**__**  
**__**Tame the ghosts in my head,**__**  
**__**That run wild and wish me dead.**__**  
**__**Should you shake my ash to the wind**__**  
**__**Lord, forget all of my sins**__**  
**__**Oh, let me die where I lie**__**  
**__**Neath the curse of my lover's eyes.**_

_xvi. _

On Eponine's way home her mind fills with questions and riddles. She still doesn't not believe she loves him- he loves her silhouette more than he could ever love her. She cannot risk losing her heart for that. She needs proof. She cannot be the image of the girl he wants- he needs to want her for what she is.

She is not his revolution, she is not his fire, and she is certainly not his salvation.

She is simply not his.

If anything, he is hers.

The thought is involuntary and jarring. Eponine stops full forces, contemplating her subconscious.

He is mine, isn't he? She thinks. He has been all along.

She trails on in the rain, her hands stuffed in her pockets. She passes her home. Though she is exhausted, she still needs more time to think. She enjoys the rain more than anyone should. She lets it soak through her- as if it hadn't before. Rain is more comforting to Eponine than hot chocolate, or an old song. Rain is her only friend when the world becomes too cold; her music when the is none; her heart and soul when she cannot find either; the comfort of her mother's arms when she has no one else to turn to. She is the daughter of wind and rain and she could not be happier.

She sings an old lullaby under her breath, her eyes trailing down for a few seconds. She doesn't even have time to look up before the figure runs in to her. They both fall to the wet pavement, staying silent. Eponine is about to get up when her eyes catch the other's.

She could never forget those eyes. They had lost most of their sadness, instead conveying some form of hope. Hope in a creature like that was rare. Her green orbs sparkle up at Eponine. The silence is deafening, the two of them too stunned to say anything.

Before Eponine can say anything, the girl wraps her up in her arms. What odd thing to do, Eponine thinks, I was horrible to her. She uncomfortably pats the girl's back, confused by her own situation.

"Cosette?"

Cosette nods, staying silent.

"I-" Eponine takes a breath. She cannot think of anything to say. She hasn't seen the girl since they were children. Eponine towers over her now, the other barely over five feet. She is thin, but not as sickly as Eponine. Her smile is worn, but gentle and kind. Though the fire behind her eyes would suggest she was more wild than timid. She finally knows what she must say. "I'm sorry."

Cosette pulls back, a soft smile on her face. Eponine has never seen kindness like this. It might as well kill her. "I'd thought you were dead- or worse, but when Marius told me all about you I just knew that you'd grown up to be great! Well, better, at least." She puts her hand on Eponine's shoulder. Eponine tenses, not sure how to take her words. "I forgive you, Eponine. Forgiveness is the most important thing in this world."

Eponine nods slowly. She does not know how to react to that. She bottles it up, leaving the space silent, "...Why are you out here anyways? And barefoot-? You'll catch a fucking cold."

"I'm looking for my dog. He thought it'd be genius to run outside in the pouring rain!" She laughs airily. "Plus it seemed like a sensible thing to do."

Eponine laughs nervously, her body almost completely tense now. "Yeah."

"Now _why_ are _you_ out here? Not running from that blonde boy Marius told me about, are you?"

"Actually I am."

"You know, I went to one of those meetings once. He couldn't speak properly, he kept getting angry... When they mentioned your name I thought he might just run away."

The silence returns. He pines for patria, She thinks. Not for me.

Cosette's expression changes. "Eponine, do you believe in fate?"

Eponine does nothing but raise a brow. Her words are heavy enough to leave Eponine quiet.

"I believe God brought me here to Paris," Cosette continues. "And to Marius, and so on to you. I believe that what Marius told me about-your little _thing,_ was all part of a big puzzle."

Her eyes widen, but Cosette does not slow down.

"Do you love him?"

"Possibly."

"Is that a positive or negative possibly?"

"-Positive." The word pains her.

"Does he love you?"

"Why do people keep asking me questions?" Eponine groans, standing up.

Cosette follows suit. "Why must you be so stubborn? If you don't want him then tell him."

"I don't not want him." She clarifies.

"If you love him, return to him. If you don't, then go home." Cosette offers. "Call Marius- he'll give you my number if you need it. We can catch up."

"Why are you doing this?" Eponine asks, her face softening in exasperation.

"Because I'm an advocate of true love." She takes Eponine's hands with a smile. "And from what I've seen- and what Marius has told me, this is worth it."

"I was horrible to you, Cosette. Why are you fucking forgetting that?"

"Because everyone at least has some good within them. Even you, Eponine."

_xvii._

He wakes with a start to hear a noise in his house. He tenses, his breathing heavy. He pulls himself up, surveying the area. He switches on his light… only to see Eponine in his doorway. She's even dirtier, if that could be possible. Her hair even more ratted, it looked as if she'd fallen or tripped (or worse) on the way over. But in spite of all, she is still beautiful. She clings to the doorframe, her thin, tall body almost blending in. The look on her face is far from timid; instead she holds sad grin. She is stuck somewhere between ecstatic and devastated. Her walls are down, but just for him.

"You came back." He doesn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah." She chuckles sadly, her voice breaking slightly. He smiles up her, slightly puzzled by her arrival. "Hi."

She makes her way to the bed and sits next to him. She hesitantly takes his hands in hers. He is nervous, but he sits firmly. He does not allow himself to waver- but then again, neither does she. She has decided to break her own rules. Why shouldn't he?

"How long have you loved me?" She asks nervously. He sees why she's come back.

He softens, moving his hand to cup her cheek. His answer is far from simple. "Eponine, I tried my whole life not to fall in love. I shut women out, I became overly analytical of men- I barely got close to anyone, save Combeferre and Courfeyrac, to protect a concept I myself could not fully grasp." He rubs his thumb softly over one of her bruises. "Then I met you. You were different. You _are_ different. I tried to ignore you when Marius brought you around, but god the things you would say! You fascinated me from the start. But I kept my distance, I knew you wanted nothing to do with me." He seems a bit ashamed. "Then Combeferre started scheduling rallies and I figured it all out." He closes his eyes, trying to figure out what to say. Eponine is appalled- winded, even. She waits for the end with intense anticipation. He opens his eyes again. "I think I fell in love the moment you stepped on stage. I fell in love with the fire in your eyes, I fell in love with your stories of the past, I fell in love with how you held yourself like I queen even though you believe yourself to be a rat; most importantly, I fell in love with you."

She presses her lips to his, their bodies pressing together. She has never had a moment as blissful as this. "I love you too." She moves back just enough so he can focus on her. "I've loved you since you started to believed in me. No one's ever done that." She kisses him again, before shaking her head. Her voice has been altered by laughter and tears. She feels weak for once in her life. "This feels like some big fucking joke. We'd be horrible together."

"I don't care what anyone thinks of us. I don't care if we're problematic or idiotic." He kisses her again, his hands wrapped tightly around her waist. "We're real. You're worth fighting for."

"What a perfect punch line." Her laugh is half hearted and broken.

"Can we try this?" He rests his forehead against hers. "Try… whatever this may be?"

She smiles, knowing exactly what to say.

"Yes."

_Epilogue, two months later._

"We'll meet before five thirty, allowing enough time to block incoming traffic to the city. Please note this will be a _peaceful _protest. No fights, no riots." He sends a pointed look towards Bahorel and Jehan. The whole of the café shows their approval simply. A few 'yes sir's are heard, and some 'fine's. Enjolras stays steady, his presence simply commanding them all. "They will know how serious us _school boys_ can be."

Eponine slips in silently, getting a few hushed greetings and quick smiles. She nods silently, directing her attention towards Enjolras. She feels a proud smile grow on her face. He stands there like a king of some brave new world. She would gladly be his queen on any day. He continues his plans and let's her eyes wander. The men seem so hopeful and proud. Musichetta plays with Joly's hair in the back, while Bossuet hopelessly tries to grab her hand. Cosette leans against Marius, who has his arm wrapped around her small waist. The petite girl waves at Eponine, and Eponine returns the favor. She finally returns her attention to Enjolras, who has only just seemed to notice her. He trails off a little as he sees her. She may be a distraction, but she is his distraction.

She doesn't normally distract him. If anything, she motivates him. He thinks it might be how beautiful she looks, or how proud. He knows what he must do. "We will return to our topic in five minutes. Everyone go ahead and take a break." He nods, jumping off of his step stool. He figures it's more accessible than a soapbox. He politely pushes through the crowd over to Eponine. He stops before he kisses her, knowing both their stances on public displays of affection. So he stands in front of her, a smile forcing itself upon his lips. She smirks up at him, intertwining his hands with hers.

"Evenin', M'sieur."

"Evening, Mademoiselle."

She chuckles softly, deciding to break another wall.

Her lips to press to his and for a moment, no one else exists but them.

And that's the way it is meant to be.

**A/N: Wow, thank you guys so much for all the positivity! So sorry for the wait! I've been so damn busy with life and stuff guh… I hope you guys enjoyed this little emotional rollercoaster. I may write a follow up, but I don't know. **

**Btw, my Cosette is **_**Chrishell Stubbs.**_


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